Moment of Change
by ardavenport
Summary: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan play a little word game that reveals a few things about the person they have been assigned to protect.


**MOMENT OF CHANGE**

by ardavenport

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"Okay, I need a noun."

"Dress."

"Dress. Okay. Now your turn. I need an adjective."

"Green."

"Now, you again, I need a noun. A plural noun."

"Deck plates."

"Hmmm, deck plates. Hmmm, well, all right. Deck plates. Now, your turn again; I need an adverb."

"An adverb?"

"Yes, an adverb. I'm sure you use them every day."

"Ummm, uuu-uuuh, slowly."

"Slowly, hmmmm. Okay. Now, you again, I need a verb."

"Sit."

"Sssssit. That's your verb?"

"Yes. Sit."

"Mmmmm, all right. So, now I need an adjective, something interesting this time."

"Umm, gray."

"Grraaaaaaaayyy. You can't give me gray. That's boring!"

"Uh, black?"

"Noooooooo! Obi-Wan, you're just picking things that are in this cabin with us! You can't do that. It's not any fun that way. It won't be funny when I put the words in."

"Sorry. I've never played this game before."

"I can tell. Have you ever played _any_ games before?"

"Oh yes. But . . . you might not think of them as games. They're certainly not like this."

"Ugh. They're probably all boring. I'll take gray. Now, Master Qui-Gon I need a noun. A plural noun. Something interesting."

"Chairs."

"Chaaaaiiiirs! You're not even trying! What's interesting about chairs?"

"We would all be sitting on the deck plates if we did not have them."

"Oh, that's not interesting at all! I though you said you wanted to play."

"We did not say that we wanted to play. We simply agreed to while we wait to come out of hyperspace."

"Well, if you don't want to play, then why are you doing it?"

"I have no objection to playing and you said you were bored. And this does not interfere with our duty to keep you safe."

"That's not a good reason . . . . . Okay, I need a noun, but this time it can't be anything here in the cabin, or anything else on the ship."

"Hyperspace."

"Oooooh! Not anything around the ship either! . . . . All right 'hyperspace'. Now, Master Qui-Gon, I want a verb. But not something we're doing right now. Pick something that Jedi do, something _interesting,_ something you do on Coruscant; that's the center of the whole galaxy; you must do all kinds of interesting stuff there all the time."

"Meditate."

"Meditate! _That's_ not interesting!"

"It is when Jedi do it."

"It – it – it – it's _not_ interesting at all! How could somebody just sitting there thinking be interesting?"

"Introspection can be very enlightening. You should try it. You may discover many things about yourself."

"Not likely. Now, Obi-Wan, I need another verb. Something interesting. Something that isn't sitting or meditating."

"Run."

"Run. Weeeeelll, that's a _little_ better. Now, Master Qui-Gon, I need another verb."

"Flee."

"Flee? That the same thing as his! Can't you think of anything else?"

"It seems appropriate."

"Oh, what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It seems appropriate to our current situation."

"We are _not_ fleeing. Especially _not_ my father."

"Not yet. Your father demanded assurances of your safety before he would abdicate. As soon as we are out of hyperspace we will communicate back to your world that we have arrived at your new home."

"Oh, he's not going to step down. He'll _never_ leave Troshisn. He's held back a-hundred-and-fifteen-thousand special droid troops just waiting for Beekis and those other cowardly negotiators to turn their backs."

"Really? I shall pass that on to Beekis as soon as we leave hyperspace."

"What?! What?! No! You _can't_! That's a secret!"

"A secret is only a secret as long as it remains unspoken."

"But you _can't!_ You Jedi are supposed to _protect_ me!"

"My apprentice and I are here to escort you off-world and keep you safe during the transition. And we will do that to the best of our abilities."

"But – but – but - - - "

"Do you need any more words?"

"What?"

"Do you require any more words from us? Is the game finished?"

"Oh, uh, um . . . . No, uh . . . uh, I need another verb."

"Stutter."

"Um, stutter . . . . all right. Now, your turn."

"What do you need?"

"Oh, um, a noun. The next one's a noun."

"Screen."

"Screen . . . . . um, the next one's an adjective."

"Polished."

"Oh, you're giving me things that are in this cabin again. I want things that aren't here. Obi-wan give me an adjective that is not something here with us."

"Oh, um . . . ah, green."

"You've already said green. You have to pick something different."

"Oh, ah . . . glowing."

"Glowing. Hmm. Well, okay. . . . now you. I need an adverb."

"Swiftly."

"Swiftly. All right. That will work. And my father is only leaving because that pack of cowards on the Council caved in and stabbed him in the back. Everything he did was justified to keep order. You can't have a decent world without order. People say it's ugly but things would just run wild without keeping a firm grip on people who just want to change things."

"That is up to the Republic courts to decide. Do you need another word from my apprentice?"

"I need a verb, past tense."

"Um . . . fought."

"Fought. An adjective."

"Disciplined."

"And another adjective."

"Shining."

"That's almost the same thing as your last word, Obi-Wan! Can't you think of anything else?"

"Sorry."

"Ugh, 'shining', then. Master Qui-Gon, I need a verb."

"Change."

"'Change' . . . . Master Qui-Gon, why don't you like me? I've been civil, done everything you've asked, I hardly complained when you jettisoned all my luggage, my possessions. I let you drag me practically by the hair through my own home. I'm accepting this – this – exile. I know better than anyone that hard choices have to be made. And sometimes hard things have to be done, even if the rest of the galaxy doesn't approve. Is that why you hate me?"

"I disagree with you. That is a very different thing from hate."

"But you make fun of me with your words."

"My words are chosen in the moment. Nothing more. I realize the moment is very difficult for you now. But it will change. With time. For you and your father . . . . . do you require another word?"

"I need an adjective. And it can't be anything like 'glowing' or 'shining'. Pick something the opposite of that."

"Dark?"

"That'll do. All right, I need a verb."

"Travel."

"'Travel'. All right. But you Jedi don't have any imagination at all. Obi-Wan, you have the last one. I need a noun."

"Temple."

"Hmmf, 'temple'. All right. Let's see what we've got . . . .

"The Grand Vizier surveyed his _dress_ and pronounced it _green_. The _deck plates_ all _slowly_ _sit_ together and made their planet _gray_. But there were a few _chairs_ who stirred up the _hyperspace_ and caused them to _meditate_ the Vizier's fine works, forcing him to _run_ and _flee_ them. To protect his _dress_ he created laws to _stutter_ the _screen_. But the _polished_ _chairs_ were still _glowing_. They _swiftly_ _fought_ everything until the whole _dress_ was _disciplined_, so the _shining_ Vizier finally _changed_, leaving the _dark_ _chairs_ to _travel_ in their own _temple_.

"Ugh. Well, you've ruined it completely, Master Qui-Gon; that's not funny."

"No, I suppose it is not funny at all."

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**o*V*o*V*o END o*V*o*V*o**

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**Disclaimer: **This story first posted on tf.n on - - - . All characters and the Star Wars universe belong to George and Lucasfilm; I am just playing in their sandbox.


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